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— Cassandra Clare"You think she’ll be able to talk sense into him?” she asked. “His sister?” "If he listens to anyone, it would be her.” “That’s sweet,” said Maia. “That he loves his sister like that.” “Yeah,” Simon said. “It’s precious"
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He felt his heart, which no longer beat, contract, and he wondered if there was anything in the world as painful as not being able to protect the people you loved.
— Cassandra Clare
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She supposed they were imperfections, those marks, but they didn't feel that way to her; they were a history, cut into his body: the map of a life of endless war.
— Cassandra Clare
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